


City of Ice AU

by TheSpasticFantastic



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpasticFantastic/pseuds/TheSpasticFantastic
Summary: Elsa and Alarik revisit their past.  Takes place within the City of Ice AU by heartdontfailmenow.
Relationships: Elsa/Alarik
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	City of Ice AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartdontfailmenow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartdontfailmenow/gifts).



> Per @couragedontdesertme‘s request (and a few rambling chats), this is a drunken one-night stand fic rated M for implications. It takes place in @couragedontdesertme and @la-stravagante‘s City of Ice Frozen AU Fic. Hopefully, I’ve done the world justice. Thank you to @patricia-von-arundel for creating the characters of Alarik and Jenny. And, of course, thank you @fericita-s for kindly beta reading this.

She could see him struggle to keep the disappointment off his face.

Elsa rubbed her arms and kept her eyes downcast at the thin sheen of ice that continued to spread along the stone floor of Alarik’s laboratory. Where, despite the oppressive humidity of the summer eve, a healthy fire was blazing against the chilled air and Alarik stood in a thick coat and gloves. It had been a difficult session, full of frustration and failure, even if he would never say it.

She was a disappointment as a pupil, unable to control her powers. She was a disappointment as a sister, unable to tell Anna when their family would be restored.She was a disappointment as a mother, unable to tell her daughter that she had been conceived in love and was dearly wanted.

“Elsa,” Alarik spoke in his infuriatingly controlled tone that he took when trying not to spook her. “Are you quite certain that you’re alright?”

“I’m sorry.” She murmured as she crossed over to one of his wooden benches and sat down. “I’m having some trouble concentrating today.”

“I see.” He glanced at the roaring fire and then back to the glossy floor where the shameful evidence of her uncontrolled magic was only starting to recede. She had been carrying out these secret sessions with him for almost a year now. Working with him to learn how to release her powers in a calm manner. Allowing her some relief from the magic that constantly surged inside her without anyone finding out or having and outburst at an inopportune time. No doubt, Alarik would consider her poor performance today a set-back after several weeks of steady improvement.

“Well, perhaps we should stop for today. I think you’ve made fine progress.”

She smiled wanly. “You’re a terrible liar.” He bowed his head.

“Forgive me, Duchessa. It was never my forte. May I offer you some tea?”

“I’d prefer wine if you have it.” She replied only half in jest.

“Oh?” He walked over to a cupboard and, much to her surprise, produced a large bottle of red Bellezzan wine and two glasses. He caught sight of her expression and gave a small shrug. “A gift. You’ll notice the dust, though?” Alarik opened the bottle and began to pour each of them a small glass. “A long day?”

“Yes.” And on top of a long day of contending with supplicants had been the arrival of Anna’s letter shortly before she left to join Alarik for their clandestine lesson. Usually, Anna’s letters contained bittersweet updates of Jenny’s progress. From her first steps, to the first poem she recited, her sister had been diligent in providing faithful updates on Jenny’s progress. But now, at seven, Jenny had asked her Zia why her mother hadn’t loved her enough to come for her. Why she had been sent away. Why wasn’t she loved the way Neta was loved?

The guilt of her actions was always with Elsa, a bruise on her soul, felt every day of her daughter’s absence. But often she was able to suppress such thoughts and feelings until she was alone in her chambers and able to unpack the hurt and turn it over in her mind, examining it and all the people she had hurt.

Anna.

Jenny.

Alarik.

Alarik, who was now handing her a chilled glass of wine and carefully settling on a bench across from her. She thought of their daughter and the lies she had built to keep them apart and in ignorance of one another, then drained her glass entirely too quickly. Alarik quirked an eyebrow but followed her lead and then poured another serving. Her ice, the evidence of her shameful magic, receded slowly as they discussed his latest investigations into several promising phenomena and shared a laugh over frivolous court gossip. They spoke of anything except their shared past.

The candles burned low by the time they found the bottom of the bottle. 

Elsa had removed her stockings and her shoes by then and was sitting on the small cot that Alarik kept tucked away in the corner for late nights in his laboratory, her legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, back against the stone wall. He was next to her, pressed into the corner, their sides touching. She laughed as he animatedly explained some theory he had recently heard from a colleague at the University. It was good to see him so open and unguarded once more. He rarely smiled so brightly or often as he once had and she couldn’t help but blame herself for that. She had half-hoped over the years that he would find another, someone to bring him the joy she had been incapable of giving him, but the court gossip was that the Maestro was wedded to his work.

She felt warm with the wine and his company and the sensation of him against her as the worst of her worries gradually melted away along with her ice. And although there was so much she was still unable to tell him, so much she had to conceal for his own safety as well as that of their daughter’s, the desire to apologize for her actions, to let him know that she had never found him wanting and just how much she missed him and just how much she wanted him, surfaced dangerously close to her tongue. Which was why, when he happened to turn his head towards her at the same time she looked at him, she did not break their gaze.

Alarik’s eyes were as green and gentle as they ever were and widened a bit at her boldness. She could see the questions rising behind them, the flush deepening in his cheeks, as he went silent. She caught the scent of the wine on his breath, sweet and heady. Already, she could see the uncertainly creeping into his expression. It was too much. Anna’s letter. The absence of her daughter. The court intrigue. The political games. The need to isolate herself from everyone she had ever loved to keep them safe. The years she had spent alone. How much she had longed for his company and her most recent failures earlier that evening to control the very thing that could undo all of her sacrifice and efforts. It was too much.

She leaned forward to close the scant distance between them and kissed him. The shape of his mouth and the feel of his lips as she pressed against them achingly familiar and haunting. He made no move to pull her closer, but responded in kind to the gentle, probing pressure and she felt the delicate pads of his fingertips brush against her cheek. With a faint moan, Elsa broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to take in his face, to ask for permission. He had never denied her anything, but if this was more than he could give, she would leave. She would. Instead, she found him with hooded eyes and wonder.

“Are you certain?” He asked, voice quiet and tinged with disbelief. In response, she kissed him again and brought her hand to his, gently guiding it to where she wished to be touched. Then it was as though their separation had never occurred. As though she had never given up what had been her favorite part of her days and evenings. His hands trailed familiar paths as she gasped against him. The worries of her day washed away in the wave of heat and desire that threatened to overwhelm her as she unbuttoned his shirt. Branded his throat with her mouth. Moved against him and then with him as they became one. And when they had finished, she curled against him, her ear pressed against his heart.

“Darling.” She heard him whisper softly. And then Elsa fell into a heavy slumber.

* * * * *

Alarik blinked against the pale dawn light filtering through the windows. It was weak and gray and seemed entirely too bright. His head swam, mind scrambled and thoughts thick from his overindulgence in the wine the previous evening. He tried to move, but found his arm was trapped. Yawning groggily, he shook his head to clear his vision and then his heart almost stopped as he caught sight of the woman in his arms, tucked against his chest, and the events of last night came back in a dizzying rush.

Under the mortifying terror that accompanied the realization that Elsa was once again in his arms after so long, Alarik’s traitorous mind couldn’t help but note how little their years apart had changed anything. She was as ethereally breathtaking as ever. If she had a line or two at the corners of her mouth that he couldn’t quite recall, her pale skin and nearly white curls cascading down past her chest were ever the same as he imagined. And he did imagine. Often. More so, he supposed, than was entirely proper or even healthy, but he had never been able to reconcile what they had, what he thought they had meant to one another, with her abruptly ending their engagement.Had had spent years wondering what he had done. If she had finally seen, as he had always known, just how little he had to offer her.

But here, now, her face was relaxed and her breathing steady and peaceful. He couldn’t help but reach out and brush a lock of hair away from her face, a pang of reminiscence sharp in his chest. He was about to tuck it behind her ear lobe, when Elsa’s eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply. The color rushed to her cheeks.

“Oh!” She struggled to sit up and he released her immediately, cracking his elbow against the stone wall as they fumbled in the cramped space of the cot. “Alarik! I’m so sorry!” She managed to blurt out as she clutched the sheets to her chest. His heart plummeted at her words. Of course, she regretted what they had done. She had been inebriated. He had acted the rake.

“No!” He said, stumbling out of the bed and grabbing his trousers. “I’m sorry. I never should have – you were drunk and I took advantage-“

“No, Alarik.” He looked up at her words and was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “You would never. I’m to blame.” He tried to smile and picked his shirt up from where it had been cast upon the floor.

“Perhaps we’re both a bit to blame.” He turned to give her privacy as she dressed herself, struggling with his desire to kiss her again. To beg her not to regret what they had done.

“We can’t-“

“I know.” He shut his eyes tightly, banishing the visions of their brief time together. They burned. He swallowed hard, past the painful lump in his throat.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, Duchessa.” She came next to him, clutching her arms against her body and looking at him with a pleading expression. “No explanation is required. Not to me, anyway.”

“Alarik-“

“Here.” He took a workman’s cloak from where it hung on a peg and handed it to her. “If you leave now, few will be about the streets to see you. Fewer still will pay attention to a laborer. It’ll be easy enough for you to make it to the palace undetected. Then there will be no questions nor explanations required at all.” He tried to smile again. Much to his surprise, Elsa reached out and squeezed his hand, an expression he couldn’t entirely read shining in her eyes. She gave him a final pained glance, flipped the hood over her head and slipped through the door. Silently, he shut the door behind her, locking it and watched through the small window as she walked quickly down the street without sparing a backward glance.

He sighed and went to clean his workspace.


End file.
